


Unspoken Words

by seraphinax



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Asexual Sherlock, Jealous John Watson, Jim Moriarty Being the Best As Always, M/M, POV John Watson, Poor John He Deserves Better, Sherlock Being Sherlock
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-06
Updated: 2018-05-06
Packaged: 2019-05-02 22:12:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,081
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14554620
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/seraphinax/pseuds/seraphinax
Summary: The 1920s. A time where women's dresses were shorter, makeup more prominent, when parties and alcohol were everywhere, and the music and the dancing were at a best.Although women may have felt liberated, if only for a decade, that liberation, freedom, and joy did not seem to enter bisexual John Watson's mind. Perhaps because of his violent past, or desolate future.Either way, he does not see his present or future amounting to much. This is until a few chance, and a few not chance, encounters with a mysterious, alluring stranger, when John starts to change his mind about his own happiness and life.But how happy can your life be if all you have are unspoken words?





	Unspoken Words

**Author's Note:**

> Ay guys, sorry this is short but I hope the writing is good enough to distract from that. 
> 
> Also, I hope to finish another, longer second chapter and post it soon.

The bustle of the booming city almost felt like too much for John. He was not yet used to stepping out his shabby apartment and being hit with the sudden rush of noise and chaos.  
He sighed, remembering the quiet peacefulness of the country, then stepped onto the sidewalk and started walking. Where to he had no idea.  
John found himself in Richmond Park, the closest thing to his previous home that he could find in the bustling city. He found a bench to sit at and leaned back against it. He sighed, and closed his eyes.  
“John!” exclaimed a voice that sounded slightly familiar to John.  
John looked up to see Mike Stanford waving frantically at him. John couldn’t believe his eyes, Mike had been his roommate at the college he had attended. He didn’t know what to think, whether he was relieved and happy to see a friendly face or aggravated that he had to deal with another person in a place that he, quite frankly, did not want to be.  
He decided to act as if he felt the former way, regardless of whether that was true. It couldn’t hurt to be friendly for once, or at least it couldn’t hurt much.  
“Mike, Hello!” Mike walked hurriedly up to where John was sitting.  
‘May I sit, old fella?”  
The nickname caused John to flinch inwardly, but he tried his best to not show it on the outside.  
“Well, I don’t see why not.” Mike seemed very encouraged by that response, sitting down without any further discussion.  
“So how have you been, John? I heard you were getting shot somewhere. What happened?” John tried not to try to hard to think of the true answer to that question, to stick to what Mike and everyone else who asked him that question in casual passing wanted to hear. The man who sold him the newspaper, when he ever managed to step outside for anything other than the necessities did not want to hear about the post-traumatic stress he was experiencing, did not want to know more about his obvious limp or why John never smiled, despite how friendly and kind the man presented himself to be.  
“I got shot,” the blunt answer left an uncomfortable feeling in the air and an uncomfortable expression on Mike’s face, so John awkwardly tried to move past it, “Fine, you?”  
Mike lit up when he heard that inquiry. “Oh, I have been just fantastic. Got a job at the hospital, quite a good one at that. I’ve been doing great, thank you for asking. What are you doing around here? I thought you didn’t like the city.”  
“I am still not the biggest fan of the city, my sister convinced me to move out here” It was the truth, no need to inform him of what prompted the suggestion and the convincing.  
“Good old Harry? Thought you didn’t talk to her much? How’s she doing?”  
“Don’t talk to her much, but sometimes exceptions are made. She’s doing fine, I’m sure she’d be glad you asked” She was very much not fine, and it was one of the reason why they never usually got around to talking. Though all of this Mike had no idea about, and John would like to keep it that way.  
“Well, say hello for me!” Mike exclaimed brightly.  
“Sure” John replied, completely lacking enthusiasm.  
They were both quiet for a moment. John savored the silence, the air devoid of Mike’s blabbering. He didn’t mind Mike, thought he was quite nice actually, but sometimes everyone talking and making noise got to him. Sometimes he wished everyone would just be quiet.  
John looked around the park. He saw the playing children, the mothers and the nannies. They all looked so happy, so peaceful. So unlike him, and he envied them for it.   
“Hey, living in London’s incredibly expensive, wouldn’t you agree?”  
That comment took John by surprise. It was spoken casually enough, but surely someone looking for another reason for the comment beyond a attempt at friendly small talk would be able to find it.  
Mike nodded. “Yes it is, and I’m sure an army pension isn’t much help. And either way, it is probably very lonely. But I suppose there are ways to fix that”  
John was very confused by Mike’s choice of words, and didn’t know what to expect. He didn’t know what to say.  
“Well, I’m sure”  
Mike stayed quiet for a minute. “Well, why don’t you try and get some friends?”  
John looked at Mike, who looks to be completely serious. John couldn’t think of any reason why someone would want him as a friend. Him, someone with not only a violent, military past but one with a secret, still violent past that they were incredibly ashamed of, someone with post-traumatic stress and a limp, someone who was a complete withdrawn homebody who didn’t like to talk to anyone and avoided it at what seemed like all costs?  
“Who would want me as a friend?”  
Mike chuckled, although John could not understand why. “What?” John asked him.  
Mike turned to him, an amused expression on his face.  
“Well, you’re the second person to say that to me today.”

\---

Mike had invited John to come with him to St. Bart’s, where Mike now worked. He had beckoned him with the request that he meet someone he knows, who he thought John would like. John was not very certain that he would like anyone Mike introduced to him. It wasn’t a hobby of his to enjoy many other people’s company except his own.  
Either way, St. Bart’s had not changed much from the last time John had stepped into its doors. It seemed strange that the last time he walked this halls he had without a limp in his walk and a twitch in his hand, and without a constant melancholy, drained look on his face.  
Mike stopped in front of a door. “Here it is. Follow me”  
Mike opened the door, and John followed him through. As he looked up, he was shocked. He didn’t think that the person Mike knew would be terribly disgusting, but he hadn’t gotten his hopes up.  
Either way, he could never have expected this.  
Standing there intent on seeing what was beneath his microscope, tall with curly hair and cheekbones that could cut diamonds.  
Whoever this man was he was gorgeous. Not that John would admit he thought that to anyone, especially himself.


End file.
